They’ve changed all that. Traveling
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ude as Cleopatra in my well-boiled hospital shift, Fizzy with sedatives and unusually humorous, I roll to an anteroom where a kind man Fists my fingers for me. He makes me feel something preciousIs leaking from the finger-vents. At the count of two Darkness wipes me out like chalk on a blackboard. . . I don’t know a thing. For five days I lie in secret, Tapped like a cask, the years draining into my pillow.
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